Eleven Companions
by Taylor-221b
Summary: Lothíriel of Gondor, wanted nothing more than adventure. Gandalf had incited a fire inside of her with his tales of danger. She had aided him numerous times in succession, but now she has volunteered for a journey that will change the course of Middle-Earth's future. I'd love feedback; what you do and don't like, and what you want to read in this. CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE HOBBIT.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

MAY 3, 3018

Gandalf the Grey rode as hard and as fast as he could to reach the White City in time. He arrived midday and climbed to the fifth level of Minas Tirith where he ran into a young woman with Elven features.

"Mae govannen, Mithrandir!" she exclaimed with a joyous smile.

"Hurry! I must see the scrolls!" he said urgently.

The young girl immediately led him to the chamber that contained many pages of books and scrolls and told of the kings and rulers of old from Gondor.

An elderly woman brought a mug of ale for Gandalf and something hot for the lady as they searched through the scrolls and papers.

"What exactly are you looking for, Mithrandir?" the girl asked.

"A scroll. A scroll written in the hand of Isildur."

"The old king?" she asked, though she knew whom he meant. "But why?"

But Gandalf was no longer listening. He had found the scroll he sought for and was now reading it intently.

"Gandalf?" the girl asked. She stepped up and peered over the old Wizard's shoulder. "What does it say?"

Gandalf read it aloud, though not for the girl's sake. In fact, he had not even heard her question.

"'The year 3,434 of the Second Age. Here follows the account of Isildur, the High King of Gondor, and the finding of the Ring of Power.

"It has come to me, the One Ring, and it shall be an heirloom of my kingdom. All those who follow in my line will be bound to its fate, for I will risk no hurt to the Ring. It is precious to me. Though I buy it with a great pain. The markings upon the band begin to fade. The writing, which at first was clear as red flame, has all but disappeared. A secret now that only fire can tell.'"

"What does it mean?" the girl asked.

"The Ring has been found," Gandalf spoke in a hushed tone.

"What?"

"The Halfling, Bilbo. . ."

"Yes?" Lothíriel pressed.

"He found it. In Gollum's cave."

"Beneath the Misty Mountains," Lothíriel recalled.

"The very same. And now, it has passed to his nephew." Gandalf suddenly turned to her. "You must tell no one. Not your brothers, not your father. . . not even your cousins, for I fear this information could turn ill for us all should your uncle hear of it."

"Of course, Mithrandir."

"Farewell."

"Namarie," she said as Gandalf strode out of the

chambers.


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

June 29, 3018

"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom! A place of light, and beauty, and music. And so it shall be once more!"

The soldiers cheered for their commander. Chants of "Boromir!" could be heard ringing throughout Osgiliath.

"Let the armies of Mordor know this," Boromir continued. "Never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands!"

The men continued to cheer.

Boromir was standing in a most warrior-like fashion with his sword in one hand and Gondor's flag in the other.

"This city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed for Gondor!"

"For Gondor!" the men of Gondor proclaimed.

"For Gondor!" Boromir repeated.

"For Gondor!"

"For Gondor!"

Boromir smirked at his soldiers. He was proud and honored to be leader of such loyal men.

Lothíriel gazed in admiration upon her cousin. He was strong and valiant and loyal to his country.

Lothíriel, was the daughter of the prince of Dol Amroth, a great city in Gondor. She had only three older brothers and the four siblings were born Dúnadain as her mother's family was before her, but her mother had died of illness when Lothíriel was no older than twenty-three. Her uncle Denethor had two sons whom Lothíriel was very close to, and Finduilas, Denethor's wife, had died after giving birth to her son Faramir over thirty years ago.

Yet, there was another person, though not a relative, who was a dearer friend to her than anyone else. He was a traveler and came to Gondor for many occasions such as helping her father and uncle in counsel, and he liked to amuse the children with fireworks and stories of heroics. He was Gandalf. He told to Lothíriel tales of distant lands and dark lords, and he promised her that one day he would take her on one of his adventures when she was older. She fell in love with the stories of battle and danger and she eagerly awaited the day when Gandalf would show her these things.

Through her teen years, her mother taught her how to use her skills as a Healer and her brothers taught her how to fight with a sword. Lothíriel was gifted in both areas. When she was nineteen years old, Gandalf returned asking her to accompany him on a brief adventure. Exuberantly accepting, she felt prepared; as if she'd been training these last few years specifically for this. He said it was merely a trip to Bree to meet a friend, but Lothíriel had never been further than Gondor before and the idea of traveling excited her. But after the journey to Bree, she got much more involved with Gandalf's "friend", the great Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor, than she would have dreamt. She traveled across Middle-Earth with Dwarves and a Hobbit, rode on the backs of great eagles, and encountered a dragon. But something happened she did not expect: she fell in love.

Fili was a Dwarve, Thorin's nephew and heir to Erebor's throne no less, and he was mischievous, brave, and admirable. He would wink or smile at her with a roguish air, but Lothíriel did not seek attention on this journey. All she wanted was her adventure. One day on their journey, Fili, Kili (Fili's younger brother), and Bilbo the Hobbit came across a Trollshaw, and when they attacked the trolls, Lothíriel found herself cornered by one and she became weaponless. Fili ran to her rescue with sheer determination etched on his handsome face, and he used every bit of his strength to keep her from harm. Lothíriel, amazed by his courage, was awestruck. They became inseparable.  
She admired his loyalty to his brother and uncle, loved the way he was sometimes reckless, and adored when he would look at her in a way that made her feel a soaring sensation.

But, he was slain in the Battle of the Five Armies alongside his brother, defending their beloved uncle who, too, died.

When Lothíriel returned home, some months after she set out, she was changed. She was matured it seemed, and wiser. She mourned for Fili, and vowed she would never love again as she had loved him.

True to her word, she has never loved in all these sixty years as she loved Fili.

During the twenty years following Fili's death, Lothíriel did many errands for Gandalf, or Mithrandir as most Gondorians called him. Mithrandir introduced Lothíriel to Aragorn, who was only a few years older than she, and together they performed secretive and dangerous tasks for the wizard.

Lothíriel made her way through the crowds with her cousin Faramir in search of Boromir. They passed her oldest brother Elphir talking gaily with Lothíriel's good friend Irolas, and her other brother Erchirion was surrounded by a group of soldiers watching him tell a story of killing an Orc with his bare hands.  
Finally, they saw him.

Boromir was talking to Amrothos, Lothíriel's third brother.

Lothíriel and Faramir approached them with smiles.

"Good speech," Faramir said to his older brother as Amrothos put his arm around his sister's neck. "Nice and short."

"Leaves more time for drinking!" Boromir exclaimed.

The two of them laughed as they hugged. Breaking loose, Boromir yelled, "Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!"

At his command, barrels and barrels of ale were brought out, and Amrothos hurried over to be one of the first to get a mug.

Three mugs were brought to Boromir as he distributed them amongst himself, Faramir, and Lothíriel.

"Remember today, little brother," Boromir addressed Faramir with a raise of his mug. "Today, life is good."

Boromir took a swig of his ale as Faramir casually looked around. His face fell as he looked back at Boromir.

"What?" Boromir asked, smiling.

"He's here."

They followed Faramir's gaze and saw that he, indeed, was here.

"One moment of peace, can he not give us that?" Boromir sighed.

Lord Denethor was pushing his way through the soldiers shaking their hands and patting their backs in a congratulatory fashion.

He was an older man with below shoulder-length hair that was a grey color. And he seemed vain. When he lost his wife years ago, it was almost as if the good and honorable part of him died with her. He became grim and angry all the time. He was proud and loving towards Boromir, but towards Faramir he was cold and harsh. Faramir never seemed to please him enough, if at all.

"Where is he?" Denethor smiled proudly at Boromir taking no notice of his younger son. "Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my firstborn?"

Putting on a rehearsed smile, Boromir handed Lothíriel his unfinished mug of ale and turned to Denethor.

"Father!"

They hugged as Denethor spoke.

"They say you vanquished the enemy almost singlehandedly."

"They exaggerate," Boromir stated. "The victory belongs to Faramir also."

Faramir stepped forward expectantly but stopped short upon hearing Denethor say, "But for Faramir this city would still be standing. Were not you entrusted to protect it?"

"I would have done, but our numbers were too few," Faramir defended.

"Oh, too few?" Denethor said in a mockingly sympathetic tone.

Boromir looked at Lothíriel quickly in embarrassment. He hated when his father bullied Faramir at all, let alone in public.

"You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim! Always you cast a poor reflection on me."

"That is not my intent," Faramir assured.

"You give him no credit and yet he tries to do your will," Boromir stalked away in frustration.

Stunned by Boromir's outspokenness, Denethor followed.

"He loves you, Father!" Boromir pleaded.

"Do not trouble me with Faramir," Denethor complained. "I know his uses and they are few."

Boromir looked away in disbelief.

"We have more urgent things to speak of."

Lothíriel and Faramir were standing awkwardly as they overheard part of Denethor and Boromir's conversation.

Lothíriel watched Boromir for a moment, then turned back to Faramir.

"Faramir, do not take what he says to heart," Lothíriel pleaded. "He loves you."

"Loved," Faramir corrected. "While my mother lived."

"Faramir," Lothíriel began to protest, but just then, Boromir came storming around the corner yelling, "Not in Rivendell!"

In unison, Lothíriel and Faramir cried out, "Rivendell?"

A split second later, Denethor came behind him.

"Would you deny your own father?" he spat angrily.

Faramir stepped forward hopefully.

"If there is need to go to Rivendell, send me in his stead."

Lothíriel, Boromir, and even Faramir knew that as soon as Faramir opened his mouth, that this gesture was a bad idea.

"You?" Denethor smiled wickedly. "Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality. I think not. I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me."


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

July 1, 3018

Lothíriel and Boromir were standing in a hallway of Minas Tirith somewhere on the fourth level. It had been only a day since they returned from Osgiliath. The Swan Knights, the soldiers of Dol Amroth, returned to Minas Tirith only to rest for a few days and recover their strength before riding home.

"I do not think it wise for you to accompany me to Rivendell," Boromir told her. "My father has given me a task that I alone -"

"The one Ring," Lothíriel said aloud.

Boromir looked at her. "What?"

"That is why you are leaving, is it not?"

Boromir took a step toward her.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"On whom"

"On me and my father the other day in Osgiliath?"

"You do not deny the quest's purpose then?" Lothíriel said breathlessly.

Boromir inwardly chided himself.

"No," Lothíriel continued. "I was not eavesdropping."

"Then how do you -?"

"Mithrandir," Lothíriel said without thinking.

"What did you say?" Boromir asked her, eyeing her carefully.

"Nothing," Lothíriel said hastily, remembering Gandalf had wished Boromir's father not know of the Wizard's visit. "Why are you needed in Imladris that has to do with the Ring? What purpose can you serve?"

"I do not fully know. The weapon has been found. My father says Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting and representatives of Men, Elves, and Dwarves are to gather there. I am to take a few representatives of Men."

"So much for doing your task alone," Lothíriel retorted, arching her eyebrow.

"My father wants me to bring back the weapon," Boromir said, ignoring her jibe.

"Weapon?" Lothíriel repeated, slightly surprised. "When used by Sauron, yes. But we are not to use it as such."

"My father has plans otherwise."

"Nevertheless, I am coming. You don't have to like it, but I'm coming."

"Lothíriel-" Boromir started.

"You're to take representatives with you, correct?" Lothíriel inquired.

Boromir nodded.

"I'm a princess! Surely I count as a representative," she half shouted, throwing her arms into the air.

Boromir shook his head but he could not hide a smirk.

"Will it be perilous?" Lothíriel looked up at him with a light ablaze in her eyes.

"Perhaps."

"All the more reason to come."

Boromir thought for a moment.

"Alright, Thíri, alright. I will decide with my father who shall accompany us as representatives. I'll request you join."

"That's all I ask," she said as she turned to leave.

"Lothíriel," Boromir called after her.

Lothíriel turned back.

"Why do you wish to go to Rivendell so badly?"

She paused a moment before answering.

"I wish to see it again," Lothíriel smiled as she thought of the days she spent with the Company in the Elven home. The glorious feasts, Bombur's songs, and the beautiful falls.

"It holds many memories for me, and I could not bear a chance to miss it."

July 4, 3018

Boromir, Lothíriel, the youngest of her three older brothers Amrothos, and Lothíriel's friend Irolas, were the chosen representatives for Men and were up at the crack of dawn preparing to ride out.

"Goodbye, Father." Lothíriel received a kiss on the top of her head as she hugged her father, Prince Imrahil.

"Goodbye, my darling. He approached her brother, Boromir, and Irolas. "Take care of her."

"I think she can take care of herself," Amrothos said with a smile as he secured his pack to his horse. "Maybe you should be telling her to take care of us."

Lothíriel hugged her eldest brother. "Goodbye, Elphir. Take care."

"And you, Lothíriel."

"Safe travels, Thíri," her other brother Erchirion said kissing her forehead.

Boromir mounted his horse and everyone followed suit.

Faramir had come out to say farewell. He kissed Lothíriel's hand and shook Irolas' and Amrothos'. He looked up at Boromir with a look of sadness mingled with respect in his eyes.

"Remember today, little brother," Boromir said.

He trotted off as the others followed.

"Noro lim, Firlas," Lothíriel ordered her dark brown horse to "ride on."


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

October 24, 3018

The journey to the last homely house was long and tedious, but when they arrived, they could not help but feel their travels were well rewarded.

They entered the beautiful haven and took in their surroundings. The waterfalls, the Elven structures, and the colorful trees were breathtaking, just as Lothíriel remembered.

"It's amazing!" Amrothos exclaimed.

"Indeed," Boromir agreed quietly.

"Creoso, mellonamin," an Elf with a warm smile said as he welcomed the four travelers. "My name is Lindir. Lord Elrond is expecting you."

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor."

"Amrothos, son of Imrahil. And my sister Princess Lothíriel."

Lindir looked at the brother and sister.

"It is obvious you are of Elven descent."

"Somewhat distantly," Amrothos said.

"Be that as it may, your Elven bearing radiates and gives your ancestors away."

He looked once more upon Lothíriel and paused.

"Mellon," Lindir said to her. "You seem familiar to me. . ."

A moment of recognition came across Lothíriel as she recalled the Elf who had greeted her and her companions long ago upon her first arrival here.

Bowing in Elvish fashion, she said, "Lindir, I recall you from the days of my visit. I accompanied Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield nigh sixty years ago."

Lindir bowed, "I remember well," he recalled with a grimace. Dining with the Dwarves and seeing them bathe in their fountain had left a lasting impression.

"Mithrandir!" Lothíriel cried as she walked over to hug her old friend.

"Lothíriel, I did not expect you to be here," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"She begged me," Boromir said glancing at the other people present.

A tall, dark-haired Elf stood beside Gandalf and Lothíriel remembered him as Elrond, the lord of Rivendell. Accompanying them were three small children - or they seemed to be children at first glance - but they were Hobbits!

"Welcome to Imladris," the Elf said. "I am Elrond Half-Elven, Lord of Rivendell."

Introductions were made.

"We are honored to be in such a haven as this, my lord," Boromir said politely. "But I think we all desire to know why we are here."

"All in good time, Boromir," Gandalf said. "Now you must rest, and tomorrow things will be clearer than water from a spring.

"May I introduce Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took. Though they prefer to be known as Sam, Merry and Pippin. Hobbits of the Shire."

Gandalf continued, "There is a fourth Hobbit, and he is presently being taken care of."

"Why? Is there something wrong with him?" Irolas inquired.

"He was stabbed in the left shoulder by a Morgul blade on his journey here. Frodo Baggins." He looked meaningfully at Lothíriel as he said this.

Frodo! Bilbo's nephew!

"I am grateful of the chance to see this place again," Lothíriel said as she rotated slowly, taking in all of her surroundings. "It is breathtakingly beautiful here."

She stopped circling as she came to face the broken shards of Narsil, sword of Elendil. The book she held in her hand, she now clutched to her chest. "It must have been a great privilege to grow up here." She turned to face the man sitting behind her.

"A privilege, a sadness," Aragorn thought back to the isolation as a child. "A curse." His mind wandered to Arwen Úndomiel. "And a joy."

"You were well protected." Lothíriel sat next to him on the bench he was seated on.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"'Tis about Lúthien and Beren," Lothíriel replied, respecting Aragorn's subtle hint that he wished to change the subject.

"May I see it?" Aragorn asked as he took the book in his hands.

Gently turning the pages, Aragorn examined the story of how an Elf maiden gave her love to a mortal Man; Beren.

"Keep it," Lothíriel said. "I know how you love the tale."

Aragorn set the book down in his lap.

Lothíriel sighed and looked into Aragorn's blue eyes. "It's good to see you again, Aragorn."

"Likewise, Lothíriel," he said with a smirk as he kissed her brow.

She stood up and walked down the stairs and out the door of the stone memorial.

Boromir watched the man smile and talk with Lothíriel as if they were old friends. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell they were friendly. This was no first meeting. Boromir wondered who he was. Someone she had not seen in awhile probably. And yet, he seemed familiar with her...

After Lothíriel departed, Boromir entered the dark room, examining a beautiful mural upon the wall of Sauron and Isildur

"Mae govannen, Arwen," Lothíriel greeted as she passed the beautiful daughter of Lord Elrond.

Arwen repeated the greeting and added, "Do you know where I I may find Estel?"

Estel had been Aragorn's alias growing up here. He had been called that for twenty years.

"He's just inside." Lothíriel smiled. "Reading."

Amrothos and Irolas walked off to explore some of Imladris while Lothíriel decided to go to her room and unpack.

She walked to her room and sighed as she reclined carelessly on her bed. Huffing, she straightened to find herself facing a beautiful Elf. She had the longest black hair and blue eyes that were so full of kindness. This girl, too, seemed familiar.

"'Quel re," the girl said in a sweet, soft voice.

"'Quel re," Lothíriel repeated the girl's greeting, saying "good day".

"Manke naa lle tuulo?" she asked.

"Gondor. Lle?"

"Mirkwood," she said with a small smile. "Mani naa essa en lle?"

"Lothíriel."

"Amin Linwë."

"Linwë?" Lothíriel repeated. "I knew you seemed familiar! I met you long ago, during the desolation of Smaug. You are a friend to Legolas and Tauriel."

The girl gave a start. "Yes," she smiled in remembrance. "We saved you and your Company a few times from yrch. I remember well. Tauriel was keen on the dark Dwarve."

"Kili," Lothíriel offered sadly.

"Yes," Linwë frowned solemnly.

"How long have you been here in Imladris?" Lothíriel asked, breaking their moment of silence.

"A few days. We had a long journey."

Lothíriel looked at Linwë questioningly. "We? You did not travel alone then?"

"No. Me and four others have come to represent Elves. My Prince and friend, Legolas, and three of our Elven warriors from our realm," she smiled.

"I, too, came with companions. As representatives of Men. My brother, my friend, and cousin are with me."

Lothíriel then described her company.

"What is to take place here?" Lothíriel asked.

"A secret council. We have not been given details, but we'll soon know what all this secrecy is about."

"A dream?" Lothíriel asked Boromir.

She was sitting on the bed in his room positioned with one leg up, the other dangling off the side of the mattress. Boromir was fully stretched out on the bed, arms bent back behind his head, watching the ceiling in contemplation.

"Yes," Boromir answered. "The same dream every night. With a single riddle. I intend to bring it up at this council tomorrow."

"Let me hear it."

Boromir heaved a sigh before quoting: " 'Seek for the sword that was broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.'

"Do you understand it?"

Lothíriel thought a minute about it. The sword that was broken; Narsil. And it is here in Rivendell; she had just seen it when she spoke with Aragorn. And tomorrow a council shall take place... But what is the token? Could it mean the Ring? The one Gandalf spoke of? The next line was "Isildur's Bane shall waken". Of course, it means the Ring. But what Halfling could this riddle mean? Bilbo? Or perhaps his nephew?

"No," she told Boromir. "It makes no sense to me."


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

October 25, 3018

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." The regal Elf, Elrond, looked around at everyone present at the council. As did Lothíriel.

There were a fair amount of people; more so than she had expected. The chairs were arranged in a semicircle; Aragorn starting on the left edge of it. Two Elves followed, and then came Irolas, Amrothos, Boromir, then Lothíriel. And to Lothíriel's right sat five very bearded Dwarves, one of whom was her old friend Gloín. Then came two Men seated next to a few Elves, one being very handsome, indeed. Legolas Thranduilion. Lothíriel remembered him clearly. She also took note as to whom sat next to the beautiful Elf: Linwë, who stood out with her dark hair amidst the three blond Elves. And then sat Gandalf, and an attractive dark-haired Halfling on the very end.

"Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." He motioned to the pedestal in front of him. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The dark haired hobbit did as he was told and cautiously approached the stool and set the trinket down precariously. Audible gasps were easily heard as this great token was presented. Lothíriel among them, but she was transfixed upon whom had presented the item of fascination; Bilbo's nephew!

"So it is true," Boromir said aloud, raising his hand to his mouth in quiet astonishment.

Shifting uncomfortably at his words, Lothíriel stared openly at the facade. She felt Boromir stir next to her and inwardly panicked as he rose to speak; her wonder of Frodo vanished. What was Boromir going to say? Would he demand the Ring?

He glanced quickly around him as he spoke.

"In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark." He started walking slowly towards the pedestal. Towards the Ring. "In the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, 'Doom is near at hand.'"

Boromir continued stepping closer to the stand.

"Isildur's Bane is found."

Closer...

"Isildur's Bane..."

His hand was outstretched...

"Boromir!" Elrond yelled, but his cry was cut off by a booming voice followed by storm clouds and a dark atmosphere.

"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul!" Gandalf stood slowly and menacingly as he stormed towards Boromir. The Dwarve next to Lothíriel was shouting in panic and Boromir was backing away as Gandalf continued his rant.

"Ash nazg thrakatulûk! Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"

Boromir sat firmly down, Elrond had a hand pressed to his brow as if he had a headache, and everyone else let out the breath they had been holding as Gandalf released the darkness.

Elrond looked angrily at Gandalf.

"Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris!"

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond," he spoke in a gruff voice, low from his anger, "for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner if the West." He swung his staff around with one last furious look at Boromir. "The Ring is altogether evil." He spat his last words and sat down.

"But it is a gift."

Gandalf looked at Boromir with contempt and exhaustion.

Why must he press on, Lothíriel wondered. Mithrandir had had his say in the matter. Boromir would do well to listen.

"A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" Boromir stood up and addressed the people present. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe!"

Aragorn shifted in his seat and looked over at Lothíriel. Lothíriel tried to make eye contact with Boromir to tell him to stop speaking. For his own good. Boromir was making an enemy of himself.

It was true what he said; being the closest to Mordor, it seemed like it was Gondor's duty to protect and ward as many enemies off as possible. Gondor practically rested on its front door. But the Ring would not help. It would only draw every ounce of anger out of Sauron. Gondor would be their primary target.

"Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy," he continued. "Let us use it against him!"

Aragorn rolled his eyes and said, "You cannot wield it. None of us can."

Boromir turned slowly to Aragorn.

"The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?" The sneer on Boromir's face was unmistakable.

Just then, Legolas stood suddenly; his tan, velvet cloak swaying.

"This is no mere ranger," he defended in a low, silky voice. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Boromir slowly turned to the so-called Aragorn in slight shock mixed with loathing.

"Aragorn?" Boromir said.

Aragorn merely stared at the man.

"So this is Isildur's heir?" Boromir looked Aragorn up and down.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas said ferociously.

There. He said it. Now Boromir knew who's presence he was in. Lothíriel could tell that Boromir was enraged. True, he had good reason to be upset with Aragorn. With the snap of his fingers, Aragorn could renounce her uncle, Boromir's father, and take his rightful place as king. But Boromir didn't know that Aragorn did not want that path; he never had. Aragorn was a good man and dependable leader, but Boromir was quick to judge, and he would not be too happy when he would find out about Aragorn and Lothíriel's friendship. Especially since Lothíriel desired Aragorn claim his kingship.

"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn commanded gently, and the Elf obeyed. He sat down and watched Boromir make his way to his seat.

Glaring at Aragorn and Legolas, Boromir said, "Gondor has no king." He seated himself, not taking his eyes off of Aragorn. "Gondor needs no king."

Boromir slouched moodily in his chair and continued glaring at Aragorn.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf said, with a nod of his head in Aragorn's direction. Aragorn sat with fists clenched and firm jaw. "We cannot use it."

Lord Elrond stepped forward.

"You have only one choice: The Ring must be destroyed."

Many exclamations of disappointment and frustration were heard from all over the court. Boromir just slouched further into his seat. Lothíriel was relieved. That would end Boromir's newfound obsession with this Ring.

Just then, one of the Dwarves by Lothíriel stood suddenly.

"Then what are we waiting for?" He swung his axe forward and smashed it onto the pedestal. The sound of metal on metal rang out as the Dwarf was thrown backwards off of his feet.

The top of the pedestal was covered with metal shards from the Dwarve's axe. It was completely destroyed, but the Ring remained intact. Perfect. Not even a scratch.

The Ring was now whispering words that were unintelligible to Lothíriel.

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"The Ring cannot be unmade, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess," he said.

"The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." The Ring continued to whisper. "One of you must do this."

There was a silence in which people shifted uncomfortably or glanced at others as if they expected them to volunteer for this task.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor."

Everyone turned to Boromir.

His hand was lightly pressed to his brow, and he was speaking in an irritated, almost superior fashion.

"Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the Great Eye is ever watchful." He formed a circle with his right hand to signify the Eye. "'Tis a barren wasteland riddled with fire and ashes and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

Legolas stood up abruptly.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond just said?! The Ring must be destroyed!"

The Dwarve that was knocked down earlier, Gimli, Gloín's son, yelled at Legolas.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!"

This time Boromir replied, standing also.

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" the angry Dwarve spat.

Chaos broke out. Legolas' men and Linwë stood as did the Dwarves, and they all bickered. Gimli shouted, "No one trust an Elf!", and Linwë, highly offended by this, started cursing in Elvish at the Dwarve.

"Amin feuya ten' lle!"

While Gandalf stood up and made his way over to Boromir yelling at him, Lothíriel stood, also marching up to her cousin. Boromir looked at Gandalf for a moment but turned to Lothíriel as she yelled, "What are you doing? Look what is happening! The Ring will destroy Gondor, it must stay far away!"

Mithrandir cut in.

"Do you not understand that while we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron's power grows? None can escape it! You'll all be destroyed!"

Everyone was arguing now. Linwë with Gimli. Legolas, his Elves, and Amrothos with a few other Dwarves. Only Aragorn, Frodo, and Elrond remained unheard.

Linwë: "Dolle naa lost!"

Boromir: "Lothíriel, it will reclaim our honor!"

Gandalf: "He will wipe you all out!"

Legolas: "Dina!"

Lothíriel: "Oh, Boromir, you can't see past your arrogance!"

Gimli: "You petty Elves know nothing!"

Frodo was staring at the Ring. It was talking to him. Whispering.

"Ash nazg durbatulûk. Ash nazg gimbatul."

He could take the arguing no longer.

"I will take it!"

Each Elf, Man, and Dwarve heard the small Hobbit's cry, and one by one the arguments stopped as each person now looked at Frodo in surprise.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor."

He looked around at all the faces staring at him as the impact the mission he had just volunteered for hit him.

"Though," he said more timidly, "I do not know the way."

Gandalf cleared his throat and walked toward Frodo with a slight smile that reminded Lothíriel of a proud father.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

He stood behind the Halfling and put his hand on his shoulder.

Aragorn stood and walked up to Frodo.

Kneeling down he said, "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."

Lothíriel caught Mithrandir giving Lord Elrond a small wink and smile.

Then Legolas stepped forward gracefully.

"And you have my bow."

"And my axe."

The red-headed, Dwarve Gimli stood next to Legolas as Legolas let out a sigh of exasperation.

Lothíriel broke the awkward moment with a smile as she said, "And you have my bow and sword."

Linwë walked to Legolas' side and she smirked at him as she said, "My arrows and my life shall protect you."

They all looked up expectantly at Boromir as he slowly walked forward. Lothíriel frowned upon him with suspicion.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council," he cast a glance at every face around him, "then Gondor will see it done."

A flicker of a smirk appeared across Lothíriel's face as Boromir came to stand next to her.

"Here!"

The Council members looked about them as a new voice called out to them.

Emerging from a small plant came Samwise Gamgee in a full run. He skidded to a stop next to his master and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me."

Elrond looked upon the pair with amusement.

"No indeed," he mused, "it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not."

"Oi!"

Elrond turned around rapidly and his eyebrows went way up as two more Hobbits ran to Frodo's side.

"We're coming too!" Merry insisted. "You'd have to send us home all tied up in a sack to stop us."

He then turned to wink at Lothíriel and Linwë, who then looked at each other in amusement as they giggled.

"Anyway," said the slightly shorter Pippin. He had a delightful accent. "You need people of intelligence on this sort of... mission... quest... thing," he finished in surety.

Merry turned to his cousin saying, "Well, that rules you out, Pip."

The group that had volunteered to accompany Frodo on his long journey stood proudly in formation as Elrond looked them over.

"Eleven companions... So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great!" Pippin said in excitement. "Where are we going?"


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

OCTOBER 26, 3018

The next morning everyone gathered their things to leave.

Lothíriel was on her way to meet the others at the gates when she passed a small man with white hair.

"Lothíriel?" he called.

"Yes?" she replied.

He was sitting on a bench, swinging his short legs as he hunched over a book.

"It's me," he smiled. "It's Bilbo."

Lothíriel stood stunned as she looked at her old friend. "Oh, Bilbo!" She ran and hugged him as she said, "It's been too long, Biblo! I've missed you."

"And I you."

He looked at her youth and beauty and suddenly became self conscious about his wrinkles and light hair.

"I'm not as young as I once was," he said sadly. "Time passed me by, but you! You look as though only ten years have come and gone!"

"Alas, the gift of the Dúnadain," said Aragorn coming up behind Lothíriel.

"We must depart immediately," he told Lothíriel.

Nodding sadly, she turned to hug Bilbo once more. "Goodbye, old friend."

"Farewell, dear Thíri," the Hobbit said as she walked away. "I fear we shall not meet again."

The Fellowship stood at the gates of Rivendell as Elrond bid them farewell.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom," Elrond said looking at the eleven, "and you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of Elves," he addressed Legolas and Linwë, "and Men," he said looking at Boromir and Lothíriel and to Gimli he said, "and all free-folk go with you."

"The Fellowship awaits the Rinbearer," Gandalf said.

The young Hobbit turned and slowly started walking towards the gateway, the Fellowship following. Lothíriel was almost positive she heard Frodo ask Mithrandir which direction Mordor was in. Everyone turned to the left and Lothíriel caught Aragorn gazing at Arwen and bowing to her.

Heaving a deep breath, Lothíriel marched with the others on the path of the most perilous journey any of them have ever trodden.

OCTOBER 31, 3018

With minimal stops, Gandalf led them through paths over mountains, across streams and plains. For hours on end they would walk and when they stopped to sleep it was from nightfall to first light and they would take turns keeping watch for two hours at a time while the others slept.

"Thíri. Thíri."

Lothíriel moaned in her sleep and turned to the voice who was gently shaking her awake.

"Lothíriel, it's our watch."

Lothíriel opened her eyes to see Aragorn kneeling over her.

She arose and followed Aragorn as they took their place by the fire. Merry and Legolas had just gone to bed from their watch, and they were already sound asleep.

Gandalf had been leading them for almost a week now, and they still had quite a ways to go. According to Mithrandir, they were now resting near Caradhras, one of the three Misty Mountains. The mountains were covered with snow, and from time to time gusts of cold wind would drift down from Caradhras, so everyone bundled up when they went to sleep that night.

"It's so quiet," Lothíriel commented as she looked about her. Legolas was flanked by Pippin and Linwë, Gimli was alone lying on his back snoring loudly, Sam was by Frodo, Gandalf was sleeping far from others (as he liked to do so so he could think before going to sleep), and Merry was asleep by the feet of Aragorn's cloak that Aragorn had lain out as a bed.

Aragorn pulled out his pipe and started smoking as Lothíriel asked, "So, have you thought about if you're going to sing at your coronation?"

Aragorn pulled out his pipe and made a face. "Lothíriel-"

"Don't say you're not to be king. You've said it before and I don't believe you. You will be king one day, Aragorn. And you will make your ancestors proud."

Aragorn looked down. "I thought you were on his side." He nodded at the sleeping lump that was Boromir.

"I am on his side. He believes in what's best for Gondor, and you claiming your destiny would be just that."

"That's not what I meant."

Aragorn grabbed a nearby blanket, crawled back over to Lothíriel, and covered the both of their legs with the blanket.

"Well," Lothíriel prodded Aragorn in his side. "Any ideas?"

"For what?" Aragorn asked in surprise as he looked down on her.

"A coronation song!"

Aragorn sighed and closed his eyes as he reclined on the log behind him.

"Don't fall asleep on me!"

"Hush, Thíri," he commanded.

Lothíriel looked in disbelief at him and after a moment she huffed and crossed her arms as she looked ahead. Aragorn stole a glance at her and smirked.

They spent most of their watch in peace and alert watchfulness, leaving each other to their own thoughts.

Aragorn roused beside Lothíriel after a couple hours of sitting in silence. Beside tending to the fire, neither of them moved their whole watch time. It was now Frodo and Mithrandir's watch.

Careful not to wake Boromir, Lothíriel quietly slipped under her blanket next to him. As the night grew older, the air grew colder. It must be about two or three in the morning, Lothíriel thought to herself.

As Lothíriel fell asleep her last thoughts were focused on Boromir's steady breathing.


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

November 1, 3018

The next morning, Mithrandir woke them all at the crack of dawn. Sam prepared a fire to cook their breakfast as the others attempted to wake themselves up enough to pack. Aragorn, who was used to traveling, was the first ready. Boromir and Lothíriel were also ready quickly because they also were used to early mornings after being with Gondor's defenses for so long. Merry and Pippin were the last ones to awaken.

"C'mon, lads," Boromir shook them awake. "Let's practice a little fencing."

Lazily, the Hobbits rose and packed their things. Sam started on the sausages while Gimli and Gandalf sat and talked.

Lothíriel, amused, joined Aragorn in watching Boromir attempt to train the Hobbits in combat.

Merry and Pippin drew their swords and Boromir took turns swinging at the Hobbits, testing their defense skills.

Sam served delicious sausages with hash, and once finished eating, Gandalf, Gimli, and Aragorn all took out their pipes and smoked. Boromir and the Hobbits stopped briefly to eat, but resumed their practice immediately.

"Good, very good," Boromir complimented Pippin as he blocked a few slower moves from Boromir.

"Move your feet," Aragorn called as he chewed on an apple. Lothíriel smiled from Aragorn's side. Frodo, Sam, and Linwë had now joined the onlookers in watching the sparring as Gandalf and Gimli talked about their route.

"You look good, Pippin," Merry offered looking impressed.

"Thanks," Pippin replied as he quickly checked to see if Linwë and Lothíriel were watching.

Then Boromir turned his sword to Merry as Sam shook his head in disapproval.

Linwë looked around for Legolas and saw him perched atop a rock looking at something far off, but the raised sound of Gimli's voice caused her to look in the Dwarve's direction.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion (which I note they're not), I'd say we were taking the long way around," he said, putting much emphasis on the word "long".

"Gandalf," he continued. "We could pass through the Mines of Moria."

Mithrandir let his pipe glide from his mouth as he gave Gimli an uncertain look.

"My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

Lothíriel spun around in her seat upon hearing Balin's name. She had seen Bilbo, Legolas, and Gloín again, and seeing Balin would be extremely welcome. He always was her favorite of the Company, excepting Fili. Her heart sank when Mithrandir said, "No, Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Meanwhile, Boromir had switched back to fencing with Pippin and accidentally slipped his grip on his blade and cut Pippin's hand.

"Ah!" Pippin yelled, grabbing his hand.

Boromir stepped closer to Pippin, attempting to examine his hand. "Sorry," he apologized, but he received a hard kick in the leg. Well, hard for a Hobbit.

"Get him!" Merry yelled, and within seconds the Hobbits had pinned Boromir to the ground in a tickle fight. Boromir was laughing and playing with them as if they were children as Linwë and Lothíriel roared in laughter.

"For the Shire!" Pippin screamed as Boromir laughed. "Hold him, hold him down, Merry!"

Aragorn set aside his pipe and stepped up towards the fighting trio. With apple in hand he reached down to pull up Merry and Pippin.

"Gentlemen, that's enough."

But Merry and Pippin each grabbed one of Aragorn's ankles and pulled. Aragorn lay sprawled out on the ground as his apple rolled around, and Linwë and Lothíriel gripped each other for by now they were rolling with laughter.

"You've got my arm!" Pippin was yelling. "Argh... You've got my arm!"

"What's that?" Sam asked.

Linwë and Lothíriel followed the Hobbit's gaze while still chuckling. But what Sam saw quickly sobered them.

A dark, ominous shadow was flying through the wind toward the Fellowship.

"Nothing," Gimli said to Sam. "It's just a wisp of clouds."

"Are you sure?" Linwë asked doubtfully.

The dark "clouds" had now caught everyone else's attention.

"It's moving fast," Boromir said as Legolas made his way to a higher point on their campsite. "Against the wind," Boromir finished.

Legolas squinted slightly then his eyes widened as he yelled "Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!" Aragorn yelled.

There the rushing began. Everyone grabbed their packs and Sam put out the fire.

"Frodo, take cover," Aragorn commanded as he and Frodo quickly scrambled under a patch of brush.

Just as the last of the Fellowship hid out of sight, the creatures Legolas had called Crebain flew right over the group. They were birds. Large, black birds. They circled around the Fellowship then headed back in the direction they had come from.

Everyone emerged from their hiding places and looked to Gandalf as he spoke.

"Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched. We must take the paths of Caradhras."

Everyone followed the old Wizard's gaze up towards the ginormous mountain covered with snow.

The Fellowship made their way up the side of the mountain, and as they got higher, the weather got colder.

"Alas!" Lothíriel remarked. "It's freezing! Legolas, Linwë, how are you two not frozen to death?" she asked staring at the Elves' thin apparel. Legolas was in an Elvish garment colored a dark shade of green with matching leggings. Linwë was dressed likewise, though her garment was more feminine than Legolas'. Her garment had a v-neckline and flowed outward at the waist like a dress. Her pale, Elven skin looked lovely beneath the maroon coloring of the outfit.

"Our garments keep out the cold," Legolas replied simply.

Pippin shivered as he watched Linwë and Legolas enviously as they walked lightly on the snow.

They all continued following Gandalf up the mountain facing the wind. Lothíriel, along with everyone else, was cursing the Crebain that forced them to take this route.

As they were trekking, Lothíriel heard a cry from behind her. She turned around in time to see Frodo lose his footing behind her and tumble downhill in the snow toward Aragorn.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called.

He stepped forward and lifted the poor, frozen Hobbit to his feet and helped him brush the snow off of his cloak and out of his hair.

Lothíriel assured herself the Hobbit was fine, and turned to keep walking when Boromir bent down next to her to pick something up. It was shiny and small. The Ring. Frodo dropped it during his fall.

"Boromir," Aragorn addressed the man.

The rest of the company stopped and turned back at hearing Aragorn's call.

"'Tis a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir remarked as he stared, mesmerized by the Ring in his grasp. "Such a little thing..."

Lothíriel looked at Boromir apprehensively as Aragorn yelled, "Boromir!"

Boromir broke from his trance and looked up at Aragorn with a gulp. He then turned to the Hobbit, slowly walking toward him and Boromir reluctantly handed the Ring back saying, "As you wish."

Frodo reached up and yanked it quickly from Boromir's hand and pulled it over his head.

"I care not," Boromir laughed.

Lothíriel could tell that her cousin did care. And as he turned away and readjusted his shield over his back, Lothíriel looked down to see Aragorn's hand relax its grip on his sword. Lothíriel recognized that Aragorn would have wounded, if not killed, Boromir for the Ring to be back in Frodo's possession.

Lothíriel looked at Aragon with wide eyes. She was suddenly scared for Boromir.

They carried on up the mountain. Lothíriel could feel her energy draining with every step. She noted the Hobbits were slowing down fast.

Mithrandir was leading the Fellowship through the falling snow, that was quickly doubling in thickness and speed, when he suddenly stopped and looked about him as though listening very carefully to something.

Legolas, ahead of the others, peered into the thick snow.

"There is a fell voice on the air," he called.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried.

Suddenly, a loud crack was heard from above them as snow and large rocks fell from overhead.

The Fellowship had no time to brace themselves as the snow encircled them.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn called to the Wizard. "Gandalf! We must turn back!" he tried to reason.

"No!" Gandalf said with determination.

Stepping to the ledge, Gandalf held his arms and staff upward in appeal to the storm.

"Losto, Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"

To all but a few of the company, Gandalf's words were unintelligible. He was beseeching the mountain to "sleep", "lie still", and "hold its wrath".

Linwë was now looking far off in the distance with a focused look on her face.

"What do you hear?" Lothíriel asked.

"A second voice, the one Legolas heard," she called through the loud fury. "Saruman. He is trying to crush us!"

Then, as Linwë said this, a great streak of lightening burst forth from the clouds and came down upon the rock wall above them. An avalanche of snow and boulders came crashing all around them as they scrambled to cover themselves.

They were buried.

For several moments there was absolutely no movement. All anyone could feel was cold.

Then, a hand burst forth from the snow; Legolas.

Surfacing near him was Mithrandir. Followed by Aragorn. And by the time Linwë pushed through, Aragorn and Legolas were digging through feet of snow searching for the rest of the Fellowship.

The Hobbits were shivering dangerously and Lothíriel was pale with the cold.

Boromir yelled to Gandalf, "We must get off the mountain!" Lothíriel heard the urgency in his voice. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argued.

"Do not bicker!" Linwë chided. "Every second you waste screaming at each other is another second closer to the Hobbit's freezing point!"

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli reasoned. His thick beard was laced with snow. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

The fire and excitement shone brightly in the Dwarve's eyes.

Gandalf hesitated for several seconds and Lothíriel wondered what ill could lay ahead that would make Mithrandir hesitate to enter those mines, even if it meant saving them from freezing.

Finally, and with reluctance, Gandalf said, "Let the Ringbearer decide."

Frodo looked conflicted. He, too, noticed Gandalf's unwillingness to go into the mines and if Gandalf feared it they would all do well to do so. But it would be shelter. . .

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir shouted. "This will be the death of the Hobbits!"

Frodo looked at Merry and Pippin who stood by Boromir's side. They looked frozen stiff and Frodo knew the four of them would not last much longer.

"Frodo?" Gandalf broke his thoughts.

Choosing salvation, Frodo said decidedly, "We will go through the mines." He was certain he was saving his friends' lives.

With a sinking feeling Gandalf said, "So be it."


End file.
